


hard work, no vacation

by waveandwhisper



Series: bangtan intimacy series 2k16 [2]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Beach Sex, Co-workers, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Sneaking Around, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 19:54:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9139915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveandwhisper/pseuds/waveandwhisper
Summary: +i know, i know, i make it hard to let go+yoongi fucking around with taehyung on the jobjust kidding when do they actually work





	

**Author's Note:**

> bib2016  
> bingo square: spanking

 

“You, we, are so fired. God, we’re fired. We’re fucking fired, I can’t believe it.” Taehyung’s practically spitting with frustration, but he’s still catching the back of his own collar and pulling his undershirt over his head, so.  
  
Yoongi can barely see his own hands by his sides but Taehyung is so bright in front of him that he almost thinks it’s a mirage. Wait, that’s the moon and the flashing rainbow lights from the all-night beach bar peeking at them through the open top of the changing room.  
  
Yoongi turns them around so Taehyung’s back hits the door, making the metal rattle. It’s not the stall with the broken lock, at least. “Your idea.” He presses his lips to all of Taehyung’s neck that he can reach, nips a little out of spite. “You wanted to sneak off.”  
  
“You didn’t have to say yes. Besides,” Taehyung gets both hands full of Yoongi’s ass and closes all the space between their bodies, hissing at the ripe bite he receives in return. “You didn't have to wait til now. I’ve been trying to get in your pants in all day.” His eyes worked down Yoongi’s body as he nodded slightly in appreciation. “And I’m about to.”  
  
“Shut up, shut up,” Yoongi says, pleading as if they’ve traded places, as if Yoongi was the one with his back to the door a touch too thin for all talking they’ve gotten into. Yoongi’s got Taehyung squirming and raising his hips in a bid to take the edge off, but it still feels like Taehyung’s working the mess out of him. Go figure. “Gimme your mouth.”  
  
The changing room ain’t bigger than armspan deep or wide, so when Taehyung starts walking them backwards, Yoongi’s annoyed but unsurprised that the blunt edge of the bench behind him chops him in the back of the knees. He sits a lot faster than he’d wanted to, but Taehyung’s in his lap now, messing up Yoongi’s fucking hair while they chase each other’s lips because Taehyung clearly doesn’t give as much of a fuck about this resort gig as much as he says he does. It’s a bit weird to maneuver, but Taehyung manages to wrap his legs around Yoongi’s waist. “Take this off.” He goes for the edge of Yoongi’s shirt where it’s tucked into his pants but gets his hands promptly pushed away. “Oh, whoa, sorry.”  
  
“No, just…”  
  
“If you don’t want to, we’re not doing this.” Every one of Taehyung’s features looks so sharp from up close, from the hooked inner corners of his eyes to the slope of his nose. He looks like he was carved into the side of a cliff, the way his stare won’t budge.  
  
“I didn’t mean that, I wanted to…” Yoongi finishes with his teeth grazing Taehyung’s ear, his tongue playing with the topmost piercing. “Just let me take my time.”  
  
“Oh. Oh, okay, fuck. That’s...that’s cool.”  
  
Yoongi laughs, noticing the quiver in Taehyung’s body when he did. “You ever stop talking? Come here.” Blunt nails damn near tear out the back of Yoongi’s stark white dress shirt as he and Taehyung’s lips meet. Taehyung departs from his usual knee-shaking technique; now he’s messy and desperate, gasping into Yoongi’s mouth like a first-time swimmer.  
  
“Do something. Anything.” Taehyung isn't asking, not with the audible tension in his jaw clamping down on every word.  
  
The shadows in the changing room are growing longer, taller. Yoongi blinks away the discomfort of his pupils dilating in the enveloping darkness. His eyes open and shut on a slow hinge, struggling to reprint Taehyung from the mess of ink blot shapes before him, contoured with thinning strings of artificial light.

  
“Come. Sit here.” Yoongi feels for Taehyung's hand, a bit startled when their fingers first touch — he swears the pads of Taehyung’s fingers are rougher than usual but that would mean he does real work and they both know that shit ain't true — and then interlock clumsily. Taehyung climbs off and they switch positions, this time with Yoongi kneeling on the ground, undoubtedly getting sand and dirt and assorted crap on the knees of his borrowed dress pants. Yoongi reaches out for Taehyung’s legs and feels the waist of his pants pulled taut around half-bare thighs. That was fast. Yoongi bites back a laugh. “Ready for me?”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah.”  
  
He isn't ready. True to form, Yoongi has Taehyung begging in two minutes and coming in three. And he doesn't even use his mouth. (Last time they'd tried that one in a changing room, Yoongi opened the door to a scandalized older man who complained of strange noises coming from the neighboring stall, to whom Taehyung intelligently explained, “Cleaning. Tough water marks.”) Yoongi squints to follow the stretching line of Taehyung’s neck, then his open, voiceless mouth, then his eyes squeezed shut. He slides his hands further up the warm expanses of Taehyung’s thighs, not sure if he's being self-indulgent or if he's actually helping Taehyung come down from his high.  
  
Taehyung breathes wet and weighted like he'd just run laps along the boardwalk. “Fuck.” Yoongi darts his tongue out at the seam of Taehyung’s hip, where some of his come laid in wayward splashes. “Oh… ah, fuck.”  
  
“Talk to me.” Yoongi returns his focus to nipping and sucking Taehyung’s soft skin wherever his mouth could reach.  
  
“Fuck, you're the best.” Yoongi feels Taehyung's hands searching for his head and grunts when he feels long fingers grabbing ahold of his hair and keeping him there. “Right there, right there. Yeah.” As if Yoongi's pants couldn't get any tighter, Taehyung starts spouting off at the mouth with his rumbling voice, offering promise after promise of what he'd do to Yoongi if they had the chance, where they could go so no one would hear, how he make Yoongi regret teasing him all day. “Come up here.”  
  
Yoongi chuckles and eases into the space next to Taehyung on the bench. “What happened to not getting fired?”  
  
“Just take your pants off.” Yoongi undoes his slacks and steps out of them with light feet. He stands to put them into a loose fold and place them on the shelf above their heads. Taehyung giggles. “Do you have to be like that? Neat freak.” Yoongi settles next to him and finds Taehyung's mouth with his own, wincing at the slight clash of teeth. He’s more eager than Taehyung, who slows him down with lazy, eased kisses. Must be nice to have already gotten off. “So hot, fuck,” Taehyung slurred, “come on.” Yoongi hears Taehyung patting his own thigh and moves to straddle his leg. The heat against Yoongi’s dick made him moan and hold on tighter. Taehyung chuckled as he felt Yoongi lightly rolling his hips into his thigh. “You wanna come like that?”  
  
“Maybe, no, I don't know, fuck.” Yoongi's voice comes out a little rougher than he'd liked. “Help me out, gonna fucking explode.”  
  
He feels Taehyung's large hands in the small of his back, smoothing over his skin, and it’s absolutely maddening how slow this fucker really plans to be when he knows exactly what Yoongi needs. Every second that ticks by, the blood in Yoongi's veins thrums with greater and greater intensity. He hopes Taehyung can't feel it but knows he does. He knows that a recounting of every humiliating noise he's made tonight (between the time Taehyung grabbed his ass while serving outdoor table number 3, to the moment Yoongi foolishly followed his dick instead of his brain and dragged Taehyung into the changing room, up until now that Taehyung’s positioned him with his hands on the bench and his ass up) is waiting for him bright and early tomorrow morning.

 

Taehyung finally wraps his long fingers around Yoongi's dick and he nearly cries from relief. He has literally no idea when Taehyung opened a packet of lube, but he isn't particularly surprised at the slicked hand twisting at the base of his dick. Taehyung was rarely prepared for work, but was always, always, always without fail prepared for hot, spontaneous sex in the worst possible places for not getting caught (although they had managed to be pretty lucky thus far in the not getting caught department). “What a bad boy you are for sneaking off with me. No employee of the month for you.” Yoongi imagines Taehyung’s short grin, one end of his mouth drawing upwards in a way Yoongi would find pretty punchable if he didn’t want to come so badly. Taehyung’s hand comes down square on Yoongi’s right ass cheek and he cries out before he remembers who else might be listening. “I said, you’re a bad boy.”

 

“Right, I’m a — ah! — a bad boy, “ Yoongi grits between smacks, “so bad that I’ll fucking kill you.” But he still moans Taehyung’s name and pushes his ass back for more. And he gets more. Taehyung usually stops when he sees pink (“like a peach”), but they don’t have the luxury of light now. Yoongi allows pain to slide into pleasure for a beat too long, and Taehyung lets up when he hears Yoongi mewling, giving way for Yoongi to stroke himself to climax.

 

“You want it?”

 

Yoongi nods _yes_ , says yes.

 

“Then come quick and get back to work.” He spanks Yoongi one last time, extra strength for good measure.  

 

“Tae, coming! I’m coming, fuck!” All the strength left Yoongi’s legs and he ended up kneeling on the sandy floor, leaning against the bench to catch his breath. He could see Taehyung squatting down to his level if he squinted his eyes.

 

“You know, for someone who _loves_ work so much, you seem to find yourself like this a lot.”

 

“Shut the hell up. I hope they turn the flood lights on so everyone can see your shrimp dick.”

 

Actually, Yoongi kind of wished he could see more than Taehyung’s silhouette as he grabbed his apron off the clothes hook. He wanted to see the mouth that he knew he made red. He wanted to kiss him again.


End file.
